His Little Girl
by Charlee Bleu
Summary: Ronald Weasley is about to meet the daughter on whom he walked out almost seven years ago and he's more than a little surprised that she knows her daddy.
1. First Look

It's the first time he's seeing her in the flesh in almost 8 years and he's nervous. She's beautiful, more so now than she was all those years ago. His stomach is full of butterflies and his throat is dry, but he summons his Gryffindor courage and approaches her. He stops at the opposite end of the park bench and when she doesn't notice, he clears his throat.

"Is this seat taken?"

She looks up and seems startled for a moment before recognising him. She doesn't rise to greet him, but offers a warm ,albeit strained, smile.

"Ron."

He swallows the lump in his throat.

"Hermione", he manages, "h-how are you?"

She regards him for a moment before she answers.

"Me, I'm very well," she hesitates, "and you, how are you?"

"I'm good, you know, doing real good."

They lapse into an awkward silence and in his mind he's scrambling for something to say. Finding nothing, he decides to jump right to point of this whole arrangement.

"So," he pauses, "where is she?"

For second she seems taken aback and confused, but she recovers quickly and looks over to the playground. Her eyes scan the parameter and she spots what she's looking for a warm smile spreads across her face.

"There," she points, "In the green polka dot dress by the sandbox."

He looks in the direction indicated and sure enough there she is. His little girl, playing the sandbox with two other children, seemingly in search for something. And she's beautiful, of course. Just like her mother, with a head full of curls and big, brown, bright eyes.

"W-when do I get to meet her," he questions, "officially, that is."

"When she's ready to come eat lunch," she responds, "It won't be too long from now, we've been here awhile."

He grunts in response and they lapse into another awkward silence.

After ten minutes, he chances a glance at her and finds her with her nose buried in a book, a novel of some sort. _"Typical,"_ he thinks.

"Something things never change," he comments and when she looks up he motions to the book.

"Well, yeah. I suppose some things never do." Her attention returns to the book.

He watches her, after a few seconds she changes the page and for the first time he sees it. An engagement ring with a dark - no doubt ridiculously expensive - stone and platinum wedding band. _Married?_ and he voices his question.

"You're married?"

"Oh, well, yes" she replies "five years now," and though she isn't smiling, there's affection in her voice and a warmness in her eyes as she fingers the rings.

She looks at him, places her book face down on the bench, inhales deeply and hesitantly reaches for the hem of her jumper, he follows the movement. She takes another deep breath, lifts the jumper and smooths a hand over her stomach to reveal the small swell of her cotton-clad abdomen.

"And pregnant," she explains dreamily, "almost two months"

_Pregnant!? _He's stunned into silence and for a few seconds his mind is completely blank. When he comes to it, he makes to respond when a shriek interrupts him. The spell is broken and they face the direction from which the sound came to see the little girl, in her green polka dot dress, stand up and scan her surroundings. The butterflies in his stomach have tripled in size and force.

_This is it. I meet my baby girl today._

When she spots her mum, she comes running and it seems she's got something cradled in her palm. When she's still a significant distance away he hears her chanting.

"Mummy, mum, mummy! Look what I've got!"

She stops a little ways off and her gaze shifts to him, he freezes. Her smile gets even bigger, she drops whatever she was holding and she's positively beaming. She's beaming at him and with increased enthusiasm she runs toward him. His breath catches and his heart constricts when he hears her yell,

"Daddy! You're here! You're here!"

_"She knows"_, he thinks, _"She knows her daddy!"._ He's surprised, shocked and beyond ecstatic. He doesn't notice when Hermione turns.

She's running towards him as fast as her 7 year-old legs can take her. When she's a little ways off, she seems ready to pounce and he shifts in his seat, ready to receive her, his little girl.

He leans forward, arms stretched and ready catch her. She's running towards him. And she's almost there. She's almost there. Almost in his arms.

But at the last second, she changes her direction ever so slightly and runs right past him. Flustered and more than a little confused, he turns to see where she has gone. And he when he turns, it's just in time to see her launch herself in to the arms of another man. A tall man. A tall, blond man. The man is spinning in circles with his face buried and blowing into her belly and she's shrieking in girlish delight and screaming,

"Daddy, daddy! No! That tickles!"

Now, he's not only confused and flustered, but hurt and angry.

The scene plays out for two minutes before the man relents. And when he does, he sets the little girl down, straightens his suit and attempts to fix his hair. When the man finally looks up, they make eye contact. Ron's face drains of colour, his mouth hangs agape, the butterflies die and his heart shatters.

The man is Draco Malfoy. Her daddy is Draco Malfoy.


	2. Introductions

Draco picked the girl up, again and approached the bench slowly.

Ron had yet to regain his composure and simply stared at the three.

_No, no, no. This is not happening. This is a nightmare, just a terrible nightmare._ The ginger blinked. Once. Twice. Three times before he spoke.

"What's going on?"

"Your social skills are still as disgraceful as ever, I see." the blond replied tersely.

Draco stood stiffly at Hermione's side with a, now very curious, little girl tucked safely into the crook of his arm.

"Ron, Draco," Hermione started, "please, let's be civil."

"What is _he_ doing here?", he ground out, "And what is _he_ doing with my-her?"

He knew exactly what was happening and exactly what the ferret was doing here, he just wanted to hear it wasn't what it looked like. She didn't really marry Draco - _sodding_ - Malfoy. And she really isn't pregnant for_ him_. And his daughter, _his_ daughter, most certainly did not call _another_ man daddy. No, this was a bad dream, just a bad dream.

_Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exha-_

"Is there something odd about a man spending the day at a park with his family?" came Draco's irritated response.

Hermione's mind was racing to find something - anything - to say to pacify the situation when the little girl spoke.

"Who are you?" she said, staring blankly at the ginger.

As if just remembering the her presence, Hermione's eyes snapped to the girl in Draco's arms.

"Oh, honey, this-this is a friend of Mummy's and Daddy's"

Draco grunted in displeasure at her words and Ron winced. Hermione sat back against the bench, patted her lap and smiled at the girl.

"Would you like to come sit with Mummy, so I can introduce you to him?" she asked.

The little girl, on her part, didn't seem too interested in making new friends and eyed the other man warily.

"Come on, now, love. Come meet my f-friend" Hermione coaxed.

Draco set the girl down and she looked at him questioningly . Draco gave a small nod and only then did the girl go to sit on her mother's lap. She pressed herself as close to Hermione as she could and silently observed the man across the bench.

For a minute, none of them said anything as all eyes where the little girl, watching for her reaction. After sizing up the newcomer, her blank stare turned to slightly curious.

"You have red hair like some of my aunts and uncles" she observed.

Ron was still in shock, but managed to a strangled "Yes."

Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Honey, this is my friend - "

"Yes, Mum, you said that already" the girl interrupted and Draco chuckled at her impatience. She hated when people repeated things too often. Hermione would usually reprimand her for being impolite, but as it were, she was not quite herself.

"Right," she paused, "Well, this is Ron. Ron Weasley"

At the mention of Weasley, the girl perked up and she turned her head to look up at Hermione.

"He's a Weasley? Does that mean he's related to Uncle George, Uncle Billy, Uncle Charlie, Uncle Perc -"

"Yes, " Hermione chuckled, "Yes, he's related to them. He's, um, - "

Ron, having finally managed to get his head straight, piped up.

"Hey. Hi, how are you?" he said quietly.

When the girl's gaze returned to him, she didn't reply, she just stared. After a few awkward, tense moments under the girl's scrutiny, recognition flickered through her eyes and Ron stiffened.

"Hey," she began, "I know you!" Ron's heart sped up.

"You do?!" came Hermione's surprised, choked reply. Ron gulped. Draco went rigid.

Oblivious to the obvious discomfort of the three adults, she went on.

"Yes, you're in pictures at Nana Molly's house. You're the Wayward Weasely" she stated simply.

Draco looked down at the girl and mentally complimented her on her bluntness. Hermione's cheeks stained red in mortification. And Ron's hands curled into white-knuckled fists._ Wayward Weasley. Is that what they're calling me?_ Not only does his daughter not know _exactly_ who he is, but his family had labelled him as being wayward. And that - that hurt.

"No, honey," Hermione admonished, quietly "don't-that's not a nice thing to say"

"But -"

"No, um, it's okay. It's fine," Ron cut in and three pairs of eyes snapped to him.

"Hi, I-I'm Ron," he said cautiously and the corner of her mouth twitched in irritation at the repetition." a friend of your Mum's" His voice wavered slightly and his heart ached. _A friend of your Mum's. A friend. _

The little girl sat up, squared her little shoulders, raised her chin proudly and looked him in the eye.

"I'm Malfoy. Rose Malfoy."

And little piece of him died.

* * *

**Author's Note: I hadn't really planned on adding another part to this, but here it is. Personally, I liked the first part more, but your reviews would still be much appreciated! :) **


	3. Stranger

_I'm Malfoy. Rose Malfoy._

And suddenly he was there, again, in the Entrance Hall at Hogwarts for the first time, waiting to enter the Great Hall with all the new first years, standing beside Harry.

_"I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."_

His heart slowed.

_I'm Malfoy. Rose Malfoy._

His eyes glazed over and the outside world faded.

_I'm Malfoy. Rose Malf-. I'm Malfoy. Rose Mal-_

He couldn't hear anything over the sound rushing blood filling his ears.

_I'm Malfoy. Rose -. I'm Malfoy._

He couldn't breathe, there just wasn't enough oxygen in the air.

_Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy._

"Ron?" came a soft, concerned voice. It sounded distant.

"What's wrong with him, mum?" came another soft, curious voice. This one was closer, but still far away.

Hushed tones and muffled conversation hovered just beyond the haze of his mind.

"Are you alright? Mister?" came the same voice. This time it pierced through his foggy mind.

* * *

When he came to it, Ron found himself peering into the face of a child, who was suddenly only a few inches from him, whose eyes were curious and slightly concerned and for the briefest moment she looked _exactly_ like her mother.

"Ron, are you alright?" Hermione's voice.

His gaze flickered up to find Hermione watching him carefully, concerned and apprehensive. He was once again struck with how beautiful she was, despite all the things they had been made to suffer, nature was being kind to her and he vaguely registered Malfoy's absence. _Malfoy._ His attention shifted back to the little girl. Her eyes were still curious and slightly concerned, but she had now returned to her place pressed against Hermione.

"Rose...Malfoy." he whispered.

Annoyance replaced concern as she wondered why he felt the need repeat her name when she was quite sure she had said it with perfect clarity. She shifted her head to glance questioningly up at her mother and when she received no response she looked back at Ron.

"Yes." she replied slowly, though she wasn't sure whether she answering to her name or confirming that it was indeed her name.

The uncomfortable silence that followed lasted almost twenty seconds before Ron settled on a 'safe' topic for discussion. He opted not to go with the 'catching up with old friends' approach, that could easily lead to a lot of questions he'd rather not answer right now. He decided to direct most of the conversation to Rose, mentally prepared a small list of questions to ask and cleared his throat.

"So," he began, "Rose, how old are you?" _Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. I already know how old she is._

"Seven and half," she answered "and you?"

"_Rose_," Hermione hissed, "you don't ask adults their age."

"You keep saying that, but I don't see why I shouldn't."

"Beca-"

"No. No, uh, it's fine. Really." Ron cut in, "I - me - I'm thirty."

"See, mum. He hasn't a problem saying it!" Rose chimed, giving Hermione a self-satisfied smirk.

_That smirk_. That damn smirk that graced _his_ daughter's face had _no business_ being there, and yet, it looked perfectly in place, so natural and that made Ron's stomach flip in the most uncomfortable way. While Rose reveled in fact that she was right and her mother was wrong, Ron took a second to push down the feeling of unease.

"Right, well, what's your favourite colour?" he pushed.

"Purple," she stated simply. _Well, at least it's not gree-_

"And green," she amended, "but mostly purple." _Great. This is just great._

"Well, my favourite colour is red," Ron supplied.

At this, Rose made a face muttered a disgusted "Bleh."

"What? What's wrong with red?" Ron asked, slightly amused.

"Well," she paused to make another sound of disgust, "it's just an awful colour."

"Why on earth would you say that?"

"It's just," she paused, "red is just far too loud. It just kind of screams at you, you know? And I don't like being screamed at by _anyone_ let alone colours."

Ron chuckled at her reasoning and looked to Hermione for further explanation. Hermione merely shrugged as she ran her fingers lovingly through the girl's hair.

In the next thirty minutes Ron found out that she had three dogs: Reggie, Dot and Badger, a kneazle named Patty and snake called Floyd. Her favourite thing to eat was a muggle food, pizza and she hated pickles. She also wasn't a big fan of cake, but she loved ice cream and her favourite was a muggle flavour - strawberry cheesecake. Rose loved animals, big, fluffy ones she could pet, but - much to her mother's consternation - had an odd fascination with insects and things that crawled. She loved to read - no surprise there - rather than being read to, but didn't have a favourite book because she loves "_way to many books to choose a favourite._" She loves to dance and takes ballet classes at a muggle dance studio not too far from this park . Rose plays the piano, which she started "_at the tender age of three_" as Hermione proudly stated and is thinking about starting violin lessons. Ron was nothing short of impressed by her._ Wow, she's perfect._ The conversation between Rose and himself was going quiet smoothly, considering the rocky start.

"Do you play any sports, Rose?"

"Uh-huh, football" she answered and gleefully added, "I'm learning to fly!"

Ron laughed at her enthusiasm and looked to Hermione for confirmation. When they made eye contact she rolled her eyes and groaned, Ron laughed, again_. Ha! Hermione - woman who hates flying and anything related- had a daughter who was clearly very fond of it. This is gold!_

"I can't believe you let her on a broom, 'Mione!" Hermione just groaned in response.

"Please, mum wouldn't let me go near a broom if it weren't for daddy!" Rose cheerfully added.

There it was, again. _Daddy._ The light atmosphere that they managed to develop evaporated instantly. Ron tensed and the Hermione's grip on Rose tightened. _Daddy._ That one word caused the harsh reality to come crashing in. He was more than content to forget the Slytherin had even existed, but that was not to be.

"Daddy says if it were up to just him I would have been on a broom before I could walk! Daddy is an amazing flyer! You should see him on a broom, Mister Ron." Rose continued, the sudden shift in mood was lost on her.

"Um, well," Ron swallowed, shifting uncomfortably, but Rose just prattled on.

"Uh-huh, did you know he was Quidditch team captain when he was at school? He was a seeker. I want to be a seeker, too. When I go Hogwarts I'm going to make the team and when I get to seventh year I'm going to be captain just like daddy. That's why I have to start learning from now, I'll be so good that they'll _have to_ pick me. I reckon I'll even want to be Head Girl, too. Mum and dad were the Heads, did you know that? Hmm, Mister Ron?"

"Well, that's very, um, ambitious of you, Rose" he responded.

Rose, unperturbed by his lack of enthusiasm for her future plans, replied, "Yeah, I have a lot on my plate, dad says." then added haughtily, "Nothing a Malfoy can't handle."

_Nothing a Malfoy can't handle._

Hearing her call another man _'daddy'_ made Ron feel angry and confused. Hearing her call Draco Malfoy _'daddy'_ made him feel angry, hurt and utterly betrayed, but hearing her claim the Malfoy name so easily, so innocently. _That_ did him in. He realised now, that all the 'progress' he had made in the last hour meant little or nothing this little girl. As far as she was concerned, Draco Malfoy her father and knowing her favourite colour and her favourite food was not going to change that. Before Ron could utter the weak response he had yet to formulate, Hermione interrupted.

"Yeah, you can handle it" Hermione said quietly to her daughter before placing her attention on Ron.

"Well," started, "as...lovely as this has been, um, Rose and I have to get going or we'll be late for tea."

Ron was barely paying attention, he just nodded absently and watched numbly as Hermione packed up her books and Rose's things. When she was done, she stood up and pulled Rose to do the same. Something in the back of Ron's head told him that he should stand as well, to see them off, but he was far too troubled to follow proper social etiquette. He only fully registered that they were really leaving when Hermione cleared her throat, he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Right, of course." he mumbled before looking at Rose and the cautious smile she gave him drove him make a last effort - until next time - to get closer to her.

"Well, that was nice, wouldn't you say, Rose?" He said to her. She didn't reply with words as he had hoped, she merely nodded.

"I guess we can say we're friends, now, right?" he pressed offering her weak smile. Rose made a face before looking thoughtful.

"No, we can't be friends just like that!" she said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, and why not?" he questioned.

Rose gave a small snort of laughter, smiled, looked him square in the eye and said,

"Because I only just met you, you're still a stranger."

_you're still a stranger. you're still a stranger. - still a stranger. - still a stranger. - a stranger. _

Her innocent, matter-of-fact statement shook him to the core, because she was right.

He was a _stranger_.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, that's part three. I really don't know whether or not I'll be making this a full on fic, so I can't make any promises of continuing. I hope you like this one. Feel free to point out mistakes, typos or any other type of error and reviews are always appreciated! **


End file.
